


Paradise

by NanakiBH



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Altered States, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Drug Use, Electrocution, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, M/M, Nakadashi, Praise Kink, Punishment, Restraints, Rough Sex, Torture, post-MGSV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4917862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanakiBH/pseuds/NanakiBH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their world is a different place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the bosselot fics I've read have Ocelot on bottom, becoming really do-M for Big Boss. I found those fics enjoyable, but it made me wonder where all the fics about him being do-S are. He's a sadist in canon, so I was kinda surprised. I also really wanted to write Bottom Boss, so here's my contribution.
> 
> When does this fic take place? Dunno. Sometime after The Phantom Pain. Where are they? Are they in Zanzibar Land? ...Maybe.

“You still here?”

It was tempting to stay quiet and make him wonder, but Adam supposed that the question had been rhetorical. Even blindfolded, John would have noticed if he had left the room.

Sitting but a few paces away in a wooden chair, Adam had carefully counted the passing minutes in the small, cement-walled room, indulging in the silence that was only broken by the quiet, restrained gasps and groans that escaped from John's lips as he struggled to maintain his balance. He hadn't uttered a single complaint, but Adam could see in the furrow of his brow that he found the distance between his heels and the floor troublesome.

Every slight movement caused his body to sway. Like a pendulum once pushed, his body was constantly in motion. In his delicate position, movement was a liability, adding more and more strain to his arms and shoulders.

Adam wondered how long it would take before he was begging him to release his bound wrists.

Wordlessly, he stood, his spurs scraping the hard ground as he approached his suspended partner. Having waited a significant amount of time, he was curious to find out whether his special cocktail had had an effect yet. 

Without asking any questions, John had downed the nameless tablets he'd given him under the assumption that they would do something to get him in the mood. After he'd blindfolded him and fixed his wrists to the rope that hung from the ceiling, Adam had tried to explain it for him a little. He knew that it would be easier to tell John that he'd just taken a new, barely-tested drug after he was tied up. He didn't want to risk getting a hard right to the face. His cheeks had suffered enough for one lifetime already.

Cabergoline, as he'd been told, was a powerful dopamine agonist. He was no doctor, but pairing such a drug with a phosphodiesterase inhibitor sounded like the way to jack up John's weakening libido and help him maintain a state of arousal. The interest hadn't died in him, but his poor aging body was uncooperative when it came to their personal matters. A little setback like that wasn't enough to disappoint or discourage Adam, of course. Getting older with him meant finding new things to keep their time together exciting.

Along with some selegiline and a quick and painless jab of testosterone for good measure, he figured that they'd be on their way to a good time in no time at all. John was a beast of a man, so he had no doubt that he could handle the powerful concoction. At worst, he'd be hallucinating. Considering the fact that the man had survived alone in a jungle by feeding on things that would've killed a lesser man and had left Adam's own younger self in intense intestinal distress, he knew that it would take more than that to mess him up.

Situations like these had become a comfortably familiar part of their reunions. Once enticed and shown the ever-growing extents of his expertise, John gradually became more and more willing to allow him to blindfold him and tie him up. Entrusting his sight and safety to the one who had half-blinded him once must have been difficult for him still, but Adam's steadfast loyalty had proven to him that he had nothing to fear, that he could place his safety in his hands without worry. Before long, John had discovered that he had a place outside the battlefield where he could scream and suffer and release his anguish.

“What do you think?” he asked, carefully running the gloved tips of his fingers over the curve of John's naked hip, grinning to himself when he noticed the way the slight touch made his cock twitch. He moved his hand up his stomach, over the scars across his chest, and rested it heavily on his shoulder just to watch the way it made his features pinch together as it put more pressure on him. “Does it feel like it's working? You've hardly said anything this whole time.”

John grunted and swung his head to the side to try to get his hand off, only succeeding in causing himself to sway more. His balance broken, he stumbled forward an inch or two and awkwardly tried to catch the floor with his toes. “You're- ...You're the one who hasn't said anything. I kept waiting for you.”

Cute, but not clever. He wasn't even trying.

“That's a lie if I've ever heard one.” And John could trust that he had heard quite a lot. Personally, he'd probably told more than any man alive. “I know how reluctant you are to talk about yourself. Honestly, John, you can't put anything past me anymore. If you know that, then you should just speak honestly; tell me everything. I'm not asking you to tell me everything as an interrogator, you know. I want to know what you're feeling so I can treat you properly. Make sense?”

“I get it. No need to talk to me like a kid, _kid._ ”

Still cute.

Adam could still remember when he used to get flustered and annoyed at him for using his age against him, but after John had spent nine years in a coma, he had caught up with him, intellectually-speaking. Now that he was well into his forties, it felt humorous to hear John refer to him as 'kid' or 'junior'. He didn't get why he persisted with that, but it had become endearing, and a part of him enjoyed it.

To do him a favor, Adam grabbed his hips and held them steady to help him regain his balance. In a second, he was going to be swaying again anyway. That was a part of the fun; watching him enjoy a moment of what he thought was respite, then watching him hopelessly stumble back into agony on his own.

Torture. Truly, a beautiful form of expression. There was nothing more special than seeing a strong man slowly lose his hope and pride, unraveling until his core was revealed.

“So?” he asked, brushing the backs of his knuckles over his ribs, admiring the way his skin was pulled tightly over the bone. With each breath, his large chest heaved, sweat rolled down his heated skin.

Just as he'd accused, John was reluctant to answer him, but his body was betraying him, revealing the answers despite him. To Adam's surprise, he seemed to be responding to even the slightest touches. Leaving him hanging there for so long could have heightened his anticipation, but the response he received went beyond his expectations. John was nearly shaking as he tried to keep himself in check, though it seemed to be proving too difficult for him.

He hung his head and let out a heavy sigh. “It's... Can't you tell? I feel like I'm burning up.”

That actually hadn't been what he'd been thinking, but a rise in temperature didn't seem like something out of the ordinary in the cramped room they were in. Normally, that room would be the place where he would conduct interrogations, so it wasn't necessary for the space to have good lighting or ventilation. It helped to have an intimidating atmosphere to soften the outer shell a little. Though, John wasn't just any subject, and he didn't normally suspend anyone else from the ceiling. Not naked, at least.

“Want me to crack a window?”

John groaned. “Very funny.”

There weren't any windows.

“Well, you know what to do. If you don't like something or if you feel like something's wrong, just tell me to stop. You aren't a victim here. I'll only go as far as you can withstand,” Adam kindly reminded him. There was never a need for a safeword. He knew that John hated to admit his limits, even with him, even when he was told that it was alright to acknowledge them. If he really wanted him to stop, then 'stop' was the word Adam's ears were waiting to hear. Though, because he never expected that word to come, he was always silently paying attention to John's cues so he could figure out how much pain he should administer. As much as he enjoyed watching him suffer, he wasn't without a conscience.

“Feel kind of dizzy.”

“Feeling sick?”

He shook his head. “No. It just feels like all the heat is going to my head.”

“Somewhere else too, I see,” Adam murmured, eyeing his cock. Gently, he placed a hand over John's raised shoulder and ran it smoothly around to the back of his neck. Even through his gloves, he could tell that his skin felt a thousand degrees warmer in comparison. Adam could feel the heat rising under his scarf, but it seemed like it must be nothing compared to the heat that made John's nostrils flare and his brow glisten.

As the one in control, he could touch him whenever he pleased. There was nothing holding him back except self-restraint. It was an unusual circumstance and a privilege that found him in a position of strength over the man he bowed to and called 'boss'. There was a certain pride of his own that he relinquished for no other man. Perhaps it was because John knew of that part of him that he allowed these moments to continue.

Adam wanted to think their relationship was something symbiotic.

“You've been up there an awfully long time. I could let you go...” he mused, “but it's still too soon. I'm sure you can hang on a little longer. A little stiffness between your shoulders won't be a problem for you, will it? Some soreness in your arms? It's just something to remind you of me later.”

“I almost would've preferred it if you tied my hands separately – better distribution of my weight. But you probably thought about that, didn't you?” John asked, head down.

That was true. He thought about everything. “Have you ever heard of strappado, John?”

“Would you blame me if I haven't? You and I run in different circles.” He seemed to think about the word for a moment, though. “ _To pull...?_ Hmn. I don't know. It has something to do with the ropes, doesn't it?”

“Smart. And close,” Adam praised. Quietly, he walked behind him, admiring his back and the way his muscles were straining fiercely to support him. “Strappado is a rope torture technique. You start by tying the victim's hands behind their back – not over the head the way yours are. Once tied, they're lifted and the arms are forced backwards. Imagine being suspended in that position and the sort of indescribable pain you'd be in if you were left that way. It can be a torture all of its own. For the lazy torturer, it would do all the work for them, given time. The arms are gradually dislocated from their sockets, but if you had the victim on a pulley...”

John's thighs were shaking. Adam had no intentions of tying him up in the way he described, but the suggestion of it must've been too easy to imagine.

Removing his gloves, he placed a hand in the center of John's back and ran it up between his shoulder blades. “Your bones would snap like twigs. Right here,” he said, pressing the tips of his fingers into the tender gap between his shoulder blades and collarbone.

“What's your point?” he breathed, his voice rough with tension.

Keeping his breathing even, Adam leaned closer, surprising him when he spoke right near his ear.

“I could break you.”

That was a good shudder. It was the real thing.

Once upon a time, he'd pretended to be John's enemy. It was just an act, but it had left a lasting impression on him. He was glad that John was able to see how capable he was and was still mindful of the fact that he could always just be _pretending_ to be on his side. That risk, no matter how small, was enough to make him quiver in fear once he was reminded of his vulnerable position. Adam knew that John was strong and wouldn't break easily, but a situation like this had to uncontrollably remind him of experiences from his past.

Memories like those only made him more vulnerable. They were exploitable. They left him open to torment.

“I'm sure this must feel very familiar to you. That time, your feet couldn't even touch the ground, though. I bet you're happy you can breathe, too. I'm a lot kinder than he was, aren't I?” Slowly, he stepped away. He wanted to remain quiet, but his boots made too much noise on the floor as he crossed the room. John could probably even tell how far away he'd walked by measuring the distance between his steps.

The moment he lifted something, he heard John let out a startled breath. He'd been so quiet until that moment, so he must have realized what it was he picked up by its metal sound.

“Do you not want me to?” Adam asked curiously, hoisting the bucket of water up with both hands. “I think you know where I'm going with this. It's hard to give you any surprises when I keep all of my toys out in the open here.”

John wasn't afraid of being electrocuted. Volgin's punches packed a far higher voltage than his little picana baton was capable of, and, besides, Adam had no interest in hurting him _that_ badly. They weren't just playing around. In fact, he made sure that he was serious about every single action he took, but he had no intentions of bringing John to the brink of death. What John was afraid of wasn't something physical. It was a thing from the past that was agitated by the unsettling sounds of crackling electricity, of gunfire, and deadly silence; a memory impossible to forget.

He was there, hanging from the ceiling because he wanted to confront those fears. He didn't want to remain trapped by them, yet he allowed himself to become overcome by them over and over again. Inside, Adam knew that there might be no hope for it. The regret John felt had turned into a feeling of betrayal that caused him to walk the burning path that he was on.

He didn't want to conquer it.

That pain... Regardless of who he ultimately blamed for it, he wanted to be punished by it. There was a part of him welcoming its torment.

There was a slight hopelessness in Adam's chest.

“Forgive me for this, Boss,” he said and swung the bucket, drenching him from head to foot in tepid water.

The shivering remained, but it wasn't from the water. The cheeky thought occurred to him that it ought to help John cool down a little, but the difference in the room temperature and that of the water hadn't done anything to abate his arousal. That was one way to test the strength of his cocktail. Looked like it worked real well. Possibly too well, but he'd already been told what to expect from the cabergoline. If it worked as it should, then he had a lot of fun to look forward to. In John's case, however, that fun would be a pleasurable agony of nearly endless arousal.

Grabbing one of the two chairs in the room, he dragged it closer to where John awaited, then went back to bring over the picana's control box and placed it on the chair. Without another person to help man it, it was necessary to keep it close to adjust its voltage. He made sure to keep it just far away enough to keep it out of John's reach. If he began struggling, it wouldn't be good if he kicked it.

Volgin hadn't had to worry about such things. The man had been his own fucking torture device, but he also hadn't been very good at controlling the amount of pain he inflicted. Then again, he hadn't cared. To him, sadism was a one-way street. His victims were inconsequential as long as they spat the information he needed.

That made him wonder...

“What ever happened to officer Raikov?”

John picked up his head and inclined it in the direction he heard his voice coming from. “Huh?”

That must have sounded like it came out of nowhere. “Sorry. I was just thinking. I heard that he was working for you for a while.”

“Ah...” He rolled his head back as he remembered. “I can't tell you, unfortunately. I have no idea where he'd be now. There are a lot of people I've lost contact with. Why?”

“Well... Like this, the memories are inescapable, aren't they? Every time I perform an interrogation or am in a situation like this, I find myself thinking about the dear old colonel. I tell you, it was something surreal to see him covered in flames, losing control of himself. When his body had been brought back to Mother Base, I almost couldn't believe it was him. That huge, proud man had been reduced to nothing.” He paused, unsure why he was even telling him about any of that now. “It made me wonder if there were a part of him I hadn't seen that knew more restraint.” And it made him wonder what sort of person he was when he was with Raikov. The young officer never seemed to have a bad thing to say about him. “What I'm saying is – I don't think... I don't think that Raikov ever knew that he was still alive.”

John sniffed. “You feel bad for him?”

“Don't you? Just a little?” He lightly placed his fingers over John's chest, smiling when he jumped, expecting to feel the sting of electricity. For a moment, he allowed himself to taste his skin with his bare fingers before stepping aside again to retrieve a pair of rubber gloves. “Volgin was a despicable human being, but so was Raikov. The two of them sort of deserved each other in a way. Don't you think there's something reassuring in knowing that even monsters can be loved?”

Drawing a breath, John tipped his head against his shoulder, keeping himself still with his toes. “I say it's for the best. After hearing your report of 'The Man on Fire', it sounded to me like he wasn't even himself anymore. That wasn't the person Raikov wanted to see again. That person was already dead. Knowing what Volgin had been turned into would've just been an insult to his memory.”

“Yeah...” Adam muttered softly, picking up the baton.

They hadn't been a good influence on each other. That was what he'd been thinking.

He wanted to believe that he and John were better than the precedent they set. No matter how they treated each other when they were alone, Volgin and Raikov had enabled each other. They were awful and they did nothing to make each other less awful.

Though, looking at he and John...

What he loved about him were his flaws.

He chose to follow the path of torture and interrogation because he believed that it was the way to truly understand the person in a person. He discovered that inflicting pain could help alleviate some of John's, but...

“You've sure done a lot of talking,” John said, interrupting his thoughts at just the right moment. Adam felt afraid of where that thought was heading.

Now with his rubber gloves on, he turned the dial on the picana's control box to turn it on and bring it to a reasonable voltage to start. He chuckled quietly to himself as he stood back up, holding the baton aside. “I told you already: you aren't a victim here. I'm not interrogating you. I'm just talking. You don't like talking with me?”

He was rewarded with a small smile. John's body was under a great amount of stress, so it felt special that he was still able to give him such a smile even when he was in pain.

“Now let's see if you can hold that smile...”

Without any other warning, he brought the tip of the baton against his right thigh. Immediately, John's expression twisted with a cry that tore unexpectedly from his throat, and he struggled away from the source of the sudden jolt. It was just a little zap – a quick kiss, and Adam had pulled it away before he could accidentally swing back into it.

“Warn me before you go doing that!” he yelled, his face covered in sweat.

“I did, if you were paying attention,” he replied. With a silent step, he leaned back to move the dial a little higher. “But you can't expect me to warn you every time. This isn't an interrogation, but what's the point of the blindfold if I'm going to call all my shots for you? If there's no suspense, then you're just asking me to hurt you, and that's not what I agreed to.”

The way that John fell silent suddenly, it seemed as though he wasn't so sure about his reasons for being there any longer.

Sighing, he touched the place on his leg where he'd stunned him. He couldn't feel his skin through the thick rubber gloves, but he could still admire the two round circles the end of the baton had left there. As long as he didn't keep the electrified end on him for too long, the marks he left on him would fade with time. It was a sad thought, but he reminded himself that he could always brand him with new ones.

The corners of his mouth widened into a smile as his eyes moved to his cock. Lightly, he rubbed the back of his hand against the underside of it and glanced up to watch his face. John didn't know where he was looking, so Adam didn't miss the way that he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I know how you are, John. You're doubting your own intentions, wondering if you come to me just because you're looking for punishment. I'm sure that's a part of it, but I don't see anything wrong with that. If that's what you want, you don't have to pretend, but I think you're here for more than just that.” He grasped his cock firmly in his hand, letting him feel the unique texture of the cold rubber surrounding him. It probably wasn't a very pleasant feeling, and he still seemed aware of the fact that Adam was holding the baton in his other hand. “You wouldn't have swallowed all those pills I gave you if you didn't want to make a game of it.”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?”

He released him and patted his other thigh, making him lose his balance again. “Can't help it. It's part of what I do, and it's part of why you keep me around. Well – that, and you can't just ask me to tie you up and then not expect me to wonder what's going through your head.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed. Trying to support his weight was getting exhausting for him. He was already a man of few words those days, but trying to keep himself still was taking all of his concentration. It made it difficult for him to do much else, but that also made him easier to surprise.

Passing the hot prod to his dominant hand, Adam casually delivered another shock to his other thigh, pressing harder that time to leave a mark in the opposite place. Accounting for John's reaction, he moved with him, grasping him by the hip to make sure that he took it.

His whole body stiffened and he tried to hold back another yell. That time, it came out as a curse hissed between his tightly clenched teeth. “Fuck... Adam...”

The men outside could surely hear them. The room wasn't soundproof. “Want me to go harder? Higher voltage?” He brushed the backs of his fingers over his cock again, giving the head a little bit of attention, but he drew away quickly, only giving him that much as a brief reward for enduring that shock with minimal noise. “I can be vicious.”

Taking in a breath slowly through his nose, John let it out just as slowly through his mouth. He must have realized that it was only in his interest to be vocal and tell him exactly what he wanted because, a moment later, he quietly spoke again.

“...Make it so I can't stand. Make me helpless...”

“Aren't you already?” Adam asked, stepping back. Hearing him admit what he wanted brought a smile to his face. The sight of his boss drenched in water and sweat, gasping in pain, and struggling to stand up like a man was the exact sort of thing he had dreamed of from that first time he saw him tortured all those years ago. He wanted to be the one responsible. With his hands, he wanted to be the one to undo him.

Yet, as happy as he was, the circumstances prevented him from basking in the moment.

Someone else had damaged his toy, and it hadn't been Volgin.

He didn't know how to put him back together and he didn't know how and an awful part of him didn't want to either because he liked him that way. If he weren't damaged, John wouldn't need him and he wouldn't have come to him seeking release from that suffering. That wasn't his fault, though. It wasn't anything he could've prevented, so, though it was a shame, there was only so much he could do. He could only be the bandage on a gaping wound.

John said he wanted to crumble, but there wasn't much Adam had to do to get him there. With the combination of drugs mixing him up inside, he must not have been thinking too clearly, otherwise he would've realized that the ropes had handled that already. The moment he'd release him, Adam was sure to hit the floor with legs of lead.

It wasn't his place to refuse him, though, so, baton raised, he gave him another stinging jab, delivering it just below his beltline on the left side of his back. John's body shook and he let out a surprised yell, but he tried to keep still. That one was just a quick one, so the pain passed just as quickly. Though he must've been expecting a strike to his legs, he also must've known better than to expect him to target them first.

Curious how he would react to pain in other places, Adam lowered the voltage slightly and held the baton at the ready. He waited just in case John had anything else he wanted to add, but it seemed that he was also waiting, on full alert. In between shocks, he was able to calm his breathing and hold his balance, but Adam knew just the thing to throw him off guard. With a lower voltage, he wasn't worried about doing any damage to him, especially in such a sensitive place...

Naturally, John let out the loudest scream when he felt the hot tip of the prod touch the back of his balls.

His yelling lasted only a couple seconds, but it left quite an effect on his body. Adam walked around to his front and tapped his foot against the ground as he looked at his hard and twitching cock. The tip was already glistening with precum.

“What's great about those things I gave you earlier is that they'll make you more sensitive. With a rush of dopamine, any sensation will feel a thousand times more intense,” he informed him. Just for fun, he cut back the electricity and nudged his cock with the harmless tip of the baton. To his amusement, John reacted the same way he would as if he'd been shocked. As soon as he realized that he hadn't actually shocked him with it, he growled. Adam suspected that he wanted to kick him, but he knew better than to swing a leg at him unless he wanted to throw himself off balance again.

“You're an asshole,” he grunted.

Adam hummed his agreement.

He turned the power back on and gave him a real shock. Knowing that he'd try to struggle away from it again, he held his hip and kept it pressed against the base of his cock. Rather than a loud yell that time, all that made it from John's throat was a hoarse, voiceless cry that stuttered as he futilely tried to breathe. It wasn't enough to hurt him, but it was still strong enough to be a real kick to his senses, so Adam was intrigued to see that it did nothing to flag his arousal.

“You're really into this,” he observed, making sure that John could hear his entertained smile through his voice. “It's not punishment if you enjoy it. That's just self-indulgence.”

That was the real punishment; telling him the truth that was difficult for him to hear.

Like he told him, though, there wasn't anything wrong with that. He didn't think that John deserved punishment, and that wasn't why he agreed to hurt him. That room was a safe place, shut off from everything but the past and the things inside their heads.

Even though he knew he couldn't heal him, Adam couldn't escape his strong desire to mend him. Hurting him was his own self-indulgence. All the marks he inflicted were temporary. So was their relief.

“Adam...”

He'd been quiet, thinking, so John must have become worried. Realizing that, Adam lifted himself onto his toes to kiss him, lightly touching their lips together. “Are you getting tired of hanging up there yet? Do you want me to let you down?”

After a second, John let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head. “This is nothing. I thought I told you what I wanted. If you let me down now, I could incapacitate you in two seconds and I wouldn't even need to use my hands. So what are you waiting for? Go on and wreck me. I thought Shalashaska was supposed to be ruthless.”

“You're playing with Shalashaska now, are you?” In that case... He stepped back and raised the voltage significantly. “I hope you know what you're getting into.”

He was going to wipe that confident grin right off his face just like John wanted.

As he walked around to his back, he didn't hide his footsteps, letting him believe that he was finally going to strike his legs. Contrary to his expectations, he pressed the end of the baton against the small of his back and watched him writhe as the new, intense level of electricity sent heat coursing throughout his body. He kept it there for longer than he had with the others, showing him how serious he was, knowing that it wasn't _really_ going to hurt him. Even at its worst, the picana wasn't capable of inflicting the sort of pain John had once experienced under Volgin's hand.

After he pulled it back, he let John think he was free for a moment before he brought the brass tip back against his skin, a little higher. The water and sweat clinging to his damp skin widened its area of effect. From the center of his back, he could likely feel it all the way through his core, out to his limbs.

When he pulled back again, John was left hissing and cursing, shaking as if he could force the lingering pain out of his body by working his muscles. Before long, Adam was going to make sure that all of his muscles were lax and weak.

“You know,” he said, circling him, feeling conversational, “I heard once of an interesting application for this device. Considering its size and shape... I'm sure you can imagine some creative uses for it.” He lightly ran his fingers over the curve of John's hip and stroked his gloved palm over his backside, watched him shudder.

“...You wouldn't.”

“No, of course not.” He was glad that the suggestion had freaked him out for a second, though. “Unfortunately, I never found out whether it left any internal damage. It probably did. These things are only meant for surface use, but there are some sick individuals out there.”

“You don't count yourself among them?”

John was so funny sometimes. “Of course not. I'm reasonable and patient. The men I interrogate are used to brutality. What's more frightening than someone who speaks softly and carries an electric stick?”

John laughed, his breathing sounding as strained as his limbs. “Ahh... I don't know why I trust you so much.”

“Liar,” Adam murmured, stroking his back, rubbing his fingers over the marks seared into his skin.

John's trust in him went hand-in-hand with his fondness.

For his next strikes, he decided to turn down the voltage a little, having some more sensitive, tender targets in mind again. John seemed to realize what his sudden silence meant, so he braced himself, but, after suffering the strong electrical shocks to his back, he was a lot weaker. It was getting harder for him to stay up. Almost all of his weight was being supported by his upper body as he clung to the ropes, pulling himself up with his wrists. If he cut the use of his legs, John's arms were going to wear out quickly.

Finally giving him what he'd asked for, he pressed the tip to the backside of his left knee, then immediately to the back of his right knee and listened to him howl. He repeated that, giving him alternating shocks from one leg to the other until the room was filled with the sweet sounds of electrical sparks and his screaming. Words started coming from his mouth, but they were all nonsense and none of them were 'stop'. By the time he relented, John was a hiccuping, sweating mess. And he hadn't even finished yet.

Keeping the voltage at a moderate level, around what casual, recreational users would use, he crouched and gave his balls another light tap from behind, through his legs. He probably hadn't expected him to do that one again because he yelled so loudly that his scream went hoarse and ended in a silence that made Adam fear for a second that he'd bitten his tongue.

“You alright there, Boss?” he asked, straightening up.

“Fine,” John croaked, taking deep breaths. “But... You're an even worse asshole now. You better hope I can't move when you release me.”

That sounded like a threat – one that Adam was sort of interested in instigating. Even pulverized by the enemy, John always found a way to come back swinging. He probably wasn't being completely seriously with that threat, but the thought of being thrown to the ground by him really took him back, reminding him of the first time they met.

Patting him on the leg, he went back to adjust the dial, raising it slightly. “I know, I know. I heard your orders and I plan to fulfill them. If you can still move after this... Blame my cocktail, perhaps. I'm very impressed by your resilience right now.”

Grabbing the meaty back of his left thigh, he jabbed the end into the sensitive upper part of his inner thigh. Though he tried to hold it back, John's growls turned into more shouts as Adam tapped the end of the baton against him again, sending further shocks to the same spot. When he moved to the same place on the opposite thigh, John lost his balance and let out a real sound of agony as his weight fell entirely upon the ropes, pulling on his tired arms. Still awaiting the magic word, Adam continued as though heedless of his pain, stinging him repeatedly until John could barely even utter a sound anymore.

John's entire body froze upon his last shock and he shuddered, letting out a startled, somewhat dismayed sound.

“...Looks like you're a bigger masochist than I had you pegged for.”

“Shut up,” John groaned, weakly kicking a heel back at him, missing. “I had no control over it. It had to be that stuff you gave me. I still feel like I'm on fire. I felt like I was going to die every time you touched me with that thing.”

Adam stared at him for a moment, then turned around to turn off the picana from the control box. Picking up the box and placing it aside, he moved the chair around in front of John. Like he thought, there was cum all over the floor, dripping from his cock, a bit of it dripping down his thigh. Yet, his cock was still hard.

“If you felt like you were dying, you should've told me to stop.”

“I'm not afraid of dying.”

As impressive as that sounded, the rational side of him was offended that John wouldn't take things more seriously. “Even if you're joking-”

“I'm fine,” he said, cutting him off. “I took it, didn't I? I'm fine.”

Adam wasn't wholly sold, thought. Stripping off his gloves, he tossed them on top of the control box and moved in front of him. The blindfold was pulled down to hang around his neck and he was unsurprised when John jerked his head away from him. He didn't want him to look at his face, and it wasn't because of his eye. John wasn't uncomfortable having the eyepatch off around him.

He couldn't look him in the face and say that he was fine.

Grasping his jaw, Adam turned his face to make him look at him. John lacked the strength to refuse. He just looked so done and ashamed and disappointed in himself. Even though he had trouble admitting those things, they were right there on his face, and Adam felt glad. If he couldn't speak his honest thoughts aloud, then it was good that he was at least able to show them to him.

There was sweat all over his face and snot running down his lips and chin, but not a tear to be seen.

Adam couldn't stop himself from laughing. “Now I'm a little disappointed. I thought I went too rough on you, but I didn't even make you cry. You really are strong.”

Ah. John's smile...

“How many times do I need to tell you I'm fine before you believe me, huh?”

A foolish part of him wanted to believe that removing the blindfold was what made the difference, that seeing his face was what made John feel at ease. Whether or not that was true, that was what he chose to believe because it kept them from sinking into further uncomfortable silence. Those bad memories and traumas wouldn't go, but they could be forgotten momentarily by something as simple as a warm expression.

The thought of releasing him had been on his mind, but now that John was looking at him that way, he couldn't help but want to admire him a little longer. It was a rare opportunity. John groaned as he touched his chest and ran his hands up, over the tired muscles of his shoulders. He was exhausted, having lost all ability to hold himself up, but his body was still responding with the drugs' effects. Beneath his hands, he really was just as hot as he said – moreso than before, even, having been pushed to his limit.

“You're a mess,” Adam said, groping his chest, using all of his willpower to resist nuzzling his face against his hot, bare chest. “I think you look best like this.”

“Of course you would. I could be half-dead and you'd probably be turned on.”

“You got me,” he admitted, smirking. His hands moved smoothly over his slick skin, sliding around behind him to grab a nice handful of his backside in each hand. It was easy to ignore John calling him a pervert when he'd already acknowledged it himself. “You already came once. I wonder how many shots you've got left.”

When he glanced up, he found John staring down at him. “...Was that some kind of double entendre?”

He shrugged, idly kneading John's ass with his palms. “You didn't like it? Too direct, huh? I guess I'll refine it. I've got a good one right on the tip of my tongue. Something about reloading, maybe...”

“This really is torture...”

Maybe he should've gagged him too. Still, even if he pretended not to get his humor, Adam could tell that he enjoyed his jokes no matter how bad they were. It was nice to see that even if he lost all of the strength in his body, he still had a sense of humor. That was good because he was going to need that in a second. Getting him out of those ropes was going to make him hurt even more than being in them.

But first...

John gasped in surprise when he felt Adam's teeth close around one of his nipples. His teeth hadn't been closed hard enough to draw blood or anything, but he'd bit him hard enough to hurt. He chuckled softly against his skin as he soothed the aching spot with his tongue, at last having himself a taste of that heady, masculine scent that had been hanging around his senses the whole time. Standing so close to him, the head of John's cock nudged against the front of his shirt, leaving a damp stain in the fabric. That might've bothered him normally, except he heard the way it made John moan to feel the texture of it rubbing against him. Deciding to tease him further, Adam pressed himself flush against him, his clothes be damned, and rubbed them together. With John hanging from the ceiling, Adam's head only reached his shoulder, putting him at the ideal height to bury his face against his neck.

Just as he always was when he was the one on the receiving end, John was quiet, trying to hold back his voice. The relentless contact was becoming too much for him to handle, though, forcing him to gasp and pant right next to Adam's ear.

There was no way that John hadn't noticed the feeling of his clothed cock nudging against his thigh – unless he really couldn't feel his legs. Given how long he'd been hanging there, there was no way he could feel his arms anymore.

As much as he wanted to keep rutting against him, breathing in the scent of his hot skin, Adam forced himself back and let go of him. “Hang on a second,” he said, belatedly laughing at his own unintended joke. One more second wouldn't make a difference. “I'll get you down from there.”

Going across the room, he grabbed the other chair and pulled it over.

“Here. You stand on this one.”

“You expect me to _stand?_ ” John asked incredulously.

Adam got the other one for himself and set it next to the first. “I'll catch you if you fall.”

Reasonably, John was still skeptical. His chair was pushed a little closer and Adam helped him get up on it. At least with his hands still secured by the ropes, he was able to stay upright. Trying to be quick about things, Adam got up on the other chair next to him and began working on the ropes. He'd gotten very efficient at tying them. If he wanted to make a victim's wrists sore for weeks, he knew just how to tie them to ruin them, but he was careful with John's. He needed those wrists.

As soon as his hands were loose, his body slumped, unable to put weight on his knees, but Adam was there for him just like he promised, putting his arms under John's to catch his fall. He helped him down from the chair and kept holding him.

With about as much firmness as a wet noodle, John pushed at his chest to try to make him get him off. “You can let go of me now.”

“You sure?”

No, he definitely wasn't sure judging by the nervous look he gave him in response. “Fine. I did tell you to make it so I couldn't walk, didn't I? If you let go now, I'm pretty sure I'd hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, so, uh... Don't. Don't do that.” Becoming quiet, he lowered his gaze, single eye innocently scanning the floor. “I don't think I'll be able to walk myself out of here for a while. It sure is a _shame_. I think I might have to take a load off here for a while-”

“You don't have to come up with a cute excuse if you want me to fuck you, Boss.” It sure was good that he wasn't able to hit him because it was clear that he really wanted to. For his boss' sake, he tried not to laugh. “Do you want to go back to your quarters?”

“Like this?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at him, gesturing at himself. The man had little shame, but it would've really been something if anyone saw him in such a condition. Worse, Adam would've probably had to drag him or carry him back to his quarters. They were far enough away where he doubted whether he would even be strong enough for that. John was the one with the inhuman strength – under normal circumstances.

Nodding, he conceded. “Alright then. I hope you don't mind the floor.”

He sniffed, grinning. “Are you worried about me? What happened to wrecking me, huh? Maybe I should've said that as an order.”

John was special. Sometimes his desire to fuck him up conflicted with his desire to treat him tenderly. It was difficult, wanting so much. But, being reminded of John's own desire to let go of his control reminded him of how badly he wanted to make him cry. It was a strange desire for sure – one that used to confuse him when he was younger – but he'd grown to understand it. Those conflicting feelings actually went together.

In his current state, he could crush him so easily, and that was thrilling. The fact that John understood the way that he saw his vulnerability was even more thrilling.

Supporting him with one arm, he grabbed his jaw, pressing his fingers into his cheeks, and pulled him in for a biting kiss, the sort of kiss his younger self had ached for, had thought about for countless nights before reuniting with the elusive snake. If he just looked at him the right way, it seemed like John was always willing to kiss him, but the ones he stole on his own were still among his favorites. Tongue assaulting his mouth, he watched his face, keeping his eyes open and locked on John's. That moment when desire visibly took control of him was the moment that Adam always waited for and loved to see, when his lashes fluttered helplessly as he internally submitted.

He laid him on the floor. He wasn't going to apologize for the lack of accommodations. Pretty soon, he knew he'd be regretting it as well, feeling bad for his own knees after kneeling on the cement floor, but he wasn't going to feel bad for John. It was what he asked for, after all. His reputation as Shalashaska had already been challenged once, so if he really wanted cruelty, then a fuck on the hard floor – the same dirty, bloodstained floor where he interrogated and even killed for him – was the very least he could do.

After laying him on the ground, he remained standing. Tapping his boot, he thought about what to do with him, then lightly kicked him in the ribs with the toe of his boot. “Try moving.”

“Not sure I want to,” John mumbled. But he complied anyway, attempting to move his legs and arms. His muscles that were struggling to adjust and relax cried out, filling him with their pain when he tried making them move again. He could barely move each limb an inch off the ground. “Shit, I... really can't move,” he said, sounding surprised how efficiently he'd paralyzed him. “I could probably get up if I really tried, but-”

“Then try.”

His one fierce eye narrowing at him, John took his challenge. First, he tried to roll onto his side. That made sense, since it would've been easier to push himself up if he were laying on his stomach, facing the ground, but he wasn't even able to make it that far without sending himself into further pain. Groaning in frustration, he tried to pick up momentum and tried it again. He was able to get that far, rolling onto his stomach. Lifting his shaking arms, he placed his palms on the ground, but, as he tried to push himself up, his arms and shoulders quaked and he yelled in defeat as he collapsed back onto the ground.

It wasn't polite to kick someone when they were down, so Adam kicked him in the side.

“You call that trying?”

Putting his cheek against the floor, John directed his tired eye up to him. He looked so exhausted, it almost made Adam want to stop and kiss him and promise that he'd never do that again, but he also wanted to see how much farther he could push him.

“Hey, who do you think is responsible for this?” John said, not really a question.

“Who asked for it?”

That shut him up, but only for a second. In the next second, he was laughing heartily, wincing at the way that even that slight movement made him hurt. “You really are good at this. Your wit is the most dangerous thing about you.”

“I'd say you're pretty good too,” Adam said fondly. Putting his foot under him, he flipped him back over onto his back. “I was a little worried about you in the beginning, but I'm impressed by how well you've kept up with me. Even if we were just playing around, that prod of mine isn't a toy. That's the real deal. It's the same thing I use on people I'm actually trying to force information from.”

“I could feel it. I'm going to be out of commission for at least a couple days now. I didn't have anything on the schedule, so as long as nothing comes up...”

Carefully, Adam nudged John's legs apart with his foot and stood between them. He could practically see John sweating as he brought the flat of his shoe between his legs, pressing lightly against his balls. “That's why you have your men,” he reminded him. He pressed a little harder, watching his features tighten as he rubbed his rough sole against the underside of his cock. “Your name precedes you now. 'Big Boss is watching you', isn't that right? Any one of your men can work in your stead. A day or two of absence won't make a terrible difference.”

Though his words may have registered in John's ears, John didn't verbalize any acknowledgment, too distracted by what Adam had in mind for him next. It was probably intimidating to feel him toying around with his balls after he'd shocked them when he was off guard. The fact that he intimidated him into speechlessness filled Adam will a sense of triumph.

“I know what you want, but I'm half-tempted to keep playing around with you. I really love watching you jump. I think a part of me has always wanted revenge after that time we met when you threw me on the ground like nothing. Now look at you...”

Noticing that John was still watching him intently, using all his strength to keep his chin up to watch what he was doing with his boot, Adam got a fun idea. Jerking his knee, he pretended to reel back for a swift kick and watched him recoil and struggle to move away, anticipating a blow. When no pain followed, John looked back up at him with fire in his eye.

“You fucking...”

Giving a pleased hum, Adam finally got down on the floor with him, kneeling between his legs, and placed his hands on his parted knees. “You really think I'd go that far? I mean... I'll go pretty far, but I won't go _that_ far. This part of you is very important to me,” he said, touching him gently, closing his fingers around his persistent arousal. That wasn't, of course, to say that he was going to suddenly go easy on him.

He tightened his fist and pressed his thumb down hard against the head.

That was what satisfied him; seeing John's body fighting between pleasure and pain, his wires crossed.

A hand shot out and grasped the front of his shirt, pulling him in closer with surprising strength.

“Stop talking and fuck me already.”

Adam put his hand over John's and easily pulled it away, forcing it back down to his side. For a moment, he narrowed his eyes at him, then got back up, trusting that he wouldn't be able to move far from that spot. He wanted to give him a hard time, but he wasn't going to have any fun if he tried to fuck him dry. Conveniently, there was a bottle of lubricant in his toolkit. He knew that John would give him a weird look for having such a thing with him in the interrogation room, but it had its purpose. If he only needed to apply electric shocks to a single area on his victim, then it was common knowledge that an oil or lubricant was more effective than water. It just lasted longer.

“You think I'm going to question you, but I'm not,” John said as if he were able to read his thoughts. “I've come to accept that you're always prepared for anything. You always seem to have every single foreseeable situation accounted for.”

“So you know what this is?” Adam asked, returning to him with the unmarked bottle from his kit.

He chuckled. “I can make an educated guess.”

Kneeling between his legs, Adam gave him a pat on the knee. “Alright. Lift your leg,” he said, gesturing for him to put one over his shoulder.

John him a disbelieving look. His whole body was flat on the floor. “Really?” he said. He must've thought he was crazy for expecting him to be able to do that much, but Adam had already seen the sort of strength he could muster when he tried, even if it were painful, so he continued to stare at him expectantly.

Groaning, forcing his muscles to cooperate, he threw his leg over Adam's shoulder. It had to be no coincidence that he nearly kicked him in the face first.

It was probably more humiliating to him to have to move on his own, forcing pain upon himself, than to passively accept it from him.

Adam decided to make quick work of preparation. Uncapping the bottle, he used a little of it to wet his fingers; just enough to make it easy for him to slide them inside of him. From the first time John had allowed him on top, he'd been surprised at how much John enjoyed bottoming for him. It was a foolish way of thinking, he knew, but it hadn't aligned with the image of him that he had in his head. Gradually, the image of the hyper-masculine super soldier he'd created in his mind was deconstructed and rebuilt with the truth of a normal man who had nuanced interests and preferences.

John was Big Boss, but, at the same time, Adam's John wasn't the soldier known by the world. Constantly, he was fascinated by him and his ability to be many things at once.

He was the unbreakable, immortal demon scarred and strengthened by war and this fragile human who was filled with a wanton desire for his touch.

Inside, he could already feel him relaxing, his body welcoming his fingers. If he wanted, he could've already removed them, but he decided to tease him a little more, bending his fingers into a beckoning motion to rub at that one spot within him. Though he tried to appear unaffected, Adam could tell that he was feeling it by the way he squeezed his eye shut and scraped at the ground with his fingers, trying to find something to grasp. With a feather-light touch, he caressed the back of one of John's hands with his fingertips and chuckled softly when John's eye shot open. The moment he noticed his playful grin, his face reddened even further.

Removing his fingers, he leaned in and gave him one more kiss, his last taste of sweetness, then grabbed him by the shoulder and gracelessly flipped him back over. It was really easy to manhandle him after he'd been weakened. John groaned when he hit the ground, but he didn't fight him. Comically, he just told him to 'watch it.'

“Sorry, am I being too rough?” he asked, sliding a hand underneath him to loosely grasp his cock.

Sweating, John pressed his forehead to the floor. When he calmed his breathing, he turned his head to look back at him with a challenging grin. “You call that 'rough'?”

“Oh, just wait.” With that, he put his hands on John's hips and lifted him up, forcing him onto his knees. After licking the pad of one thumb, he rubbed it against the tender burn marks behind one of his knees and watched him squirm and struggle to keep his hips raised without his help. That wasn't enough, though. “If you want to do it properly, then you're going to have to get into the proper position. Get up, will you?”

Determined to keep up despite the way his body protested, John tried to push himself up. Putting one hand on the ground, he slowly dragged himself, then placed his other palm down, pushing up onto all fours. It put undue pressure on his legs, but he was able to bear it with only the barest of complaint.

He huffed, trying to catch his breath. “You're awfully strict.”

“You wouldn't have it any other way, would you?”

In response, John simply laughed, looking at him over his shoulder. Sweat clung to his skin and there was dirt on his face where his cheek had been pressed to the floor, but he owned his disgraceful appearance with an unapologetic smile.

“Damn,” Adam muttered, affectionately running a hand over his backside. That was why he loved him. That was the face; undaunted by torment, determined to not simply succumb to his suffering, but surpass it.

It took him only a few seconds to unfasten his belt and prepare himself. With his pants still around his hips, he took himself in his hand and steadied himself against John's entrance. His thighs were still quivering with effort, and even his arms were shaking and looking weaker by the second, yet the look on his face made him seem unconcerned. He was watching him anxiously, keeping his breathing controlled.

He didn't push in all the way at first the way that John often preferred to do when he was the one in charge. John's body was already under enough stress as it was. The pain of a swift penetration would've been trivial compared to the terrible ache in his limbs, but Adam wanted to give him a little extra consideration before he got serious. John could clearly tell. He tensed around him unconsciously as he pushed inside, feeling wary of what he would do with him.

“You can relax now,” Adam told him kindly, rubbing his hip.

Still feeling dubious, John shook his head. “If I relax, my knees will give out and I'll end up on my face. And I know better than to trust you when you sound like that.”

“Very wise,” he agreed. Pulling back, he gave him his first hard, rough thrust and grabbed his shoulders, laying his weight into him. John had predicted what he would do, yet he still couldn't hold himself up. His arms shook violently and gave up on him, forcing him back down to the floor. Adam laughed at his frustrated expression. “That's fine, John. Stay just like that.”

As he pressed his shoulders down into the ground, he heard him let out what sounded like a whimper despite himself. So wrapped up in what he was doing, Adam had almost forgotten about the effects of the drug on John's already hypersensitive body. Straightening himself back up, holding John's hip with one hand, he ran his other hand around to his front, stroking teasingly over his lower stomach before grasping his cock in his hand. At his touch, John's expression clouded with pleasure; eye half-lidded, lips parted, face flushed.

“You really like this, don't you? Why don't you tell me? Tell me how good I am.”

He just wanted to hear him say it. John's praise was what he lived for.

A moan fluttered from his lips as Adam moved his hips. So far gone, he didn't even try to put forth his usual attitude.

“Yeah. You're good.” Right after the words left his mouth, he froze for a couple seconds, then laughed. “Don't tell me you want me to say you're... _pretty good._ ”

“Don't ruin it,” Adam groaned, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment heating him up. To his further horror, he realized that John's playful answer had only made him harder. That part of him from when he was younger was still alive and well.

Muttering a curse, he fucked him harder, releasing his cock to firmly grasp his hips. Seeing John like that, having given up his resistance, openly panting with his cheek pressed to the floor, eyelids closed, Adam felt a renewed sense of possessiveness rise up inside of him. He was confident that he was the only person who was capable of breaking him down and pleasing him so thoroughly, and hearing his praise lifted his confidence even higher.

“Fuck, Adam...” John mumbled. He tilted his chin and cracked his eye to look back at him. “Don't stop now. I know you can go harder than this.”

He was right. For a second there, he almost got caught up in how good he felt. He shouldn't have needed to be reminded.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed back down on his shoulders with both hands and pounded into him with increasingly harder thrusts. The heat of the room was starting to get to him, making him feel somewhat dizzy, heating him up under the collar. His chest felt like it was on fire. He could only imagine how uncomfortable John had to be. After being tied up for so long, his shoulders would've been the part of him that hurt the worst, yet he met each of his thrusts with a roll of his hips and he growled appreciatively when he felt his blunt nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders.

A little more and John was letting out an aching gasp of pleasure and pain with each thrust he was given. His limbs were so weak that he couldn't even raise his arms from his position to touch himself. Adam considered giving him a hand, but just when he began to remove his pressure from John's shoulders, he felt a tremor run through the body beneath him and felt him tighten around his cock.

“Are you-” He was cut off by the feeling, biting down on his lower lip as he continued thrusting into the almost suffocating heat inside of him.

John didn't respond. Or maybe he couldn't. He had his forehead pressed to the floor, hiding his face from him. If Adam hadn't grabbed him by the waist, he was sure that he would've collapsed.

Watching him recover, Adam continued his thrusts, keeping them slow and shallow. After feeling him come that hard around him, he felt like he was about ten steps closer to coming as well. “And I didn't even touch you again,” he said in amazement.

“That stuff you gave me really had me feeling it inside, I guess,” John said, still avoiding looking at him.

“And it's probably because you've got a thirst for pain now, am I right?” To prove himself right, he ran his hands over John's back and pressed slightly between his shoulder blades and watched as he squirmed. “I'm glad I satisfied you, but it looks like my job isn't totally finished yet...”

John was still hard. He knew it had to be the drugs' fault, but John didn't have the strength to keep going anymore. Despite that, he stayed quiet and allowed Adam to keep going, looking like he was enjoying the slow, rhythmic movements of his hips. It was rare to see him looking that relaxed. Especially considering the ordeal he'd put him through, it was surprising that he could look so calm.

Even though he was burning up, Adam leaned down and wrapped his arms around his waist. He was glad that John didn't question it, either.

He didn't have the time to ask him whether he wanted him to pull out before he came. The only thing he could do was commit to it and hold him tighter. With his eyes squeezed shut, he could've sworn that he felt John placing a kiss against his forehead.

After he pulled out, he eased John to the floor, then worked to clean himself up and fix his clothing. He found where John's things had been left and returned to him with his clothes and a towel. Giving him a sympathetic look, he held them out to him.

“You might need my help...”

“Forget it,” he replied. None too easily, he sat up. He looked at him for a moment with his one eye as if he were just allowing him another glimpse of his face and his scarred eye before he took his eyepatch from him and put it back on. He might've only had one eye, but there was a lot of trust there in that one eye, directed at him. He tiredly ran the towel over his face and neck, but before he took his clothes from him, his hand hesitated and he dropped it down to his side. “...Alright. You can help me with the rest.”

“You're just going to take it back off in a minute anyway, right? Rather, what I mean is... I won't allow you to walk around like this. You need to get cleaned up.”

_Walking around_ was probably more than could be expected, but the thought of him staying in his clothes after sweating and getting who-knows-what-else on him was far from pleasant. The morale of his fellow soldiers would fall immediately if they saw their boss looking so disorderly. What he needed was a good bath and some rest. And he would be more than willing to help.

“That's fine,” John sighed, allowing him to move him around to get his clothes on. “You're the one who's responsible for this, after all.”

“Don't make me remind you again who asked for it.”

Once he had him in order and looking like their proud boss again, he stood, bringing him up along with him. Though he looked tired and he couldn't walk well on his own without him, he appeared satisfied. Something inside of him was beating strongly.

He was damaged, but he wasn't broken.

“You're alright?” Adam asked, just to be sure.

John shook his head, but there was a grin on his face. “Nah. I'm better.”


End file.
